


i might be falling (apart)

by morningsound15



Series: stretch // apart [2]
Category: Atypical (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, Can be read on its own, Established Relationship, F/F, First Time, Mild Drama, but not really, sequel to 'stretch (try not to snap)', with Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningsound15/pseuds/morningsound15
Summary: It’s not that Caseymeantto hide her relationship with Izzie from her parents.It’s just that she sort of forgot to tell them.
Relationships: Casey Gardner/Izzie
Series: stretch // apart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577005
Comments: 18
Kudos: 592





	i might be falling (apart)

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a sequel to ‘stretch (try not to snap)’ but can be read on its own.

________________

It’s not that Casey _meant_ to hide her relationship with Izzie from her parents.

It’s just that she sort of forgot to tell them. Which was understandable, really, all things considered. There had sort of been a lot going on. And it isn’t exactly her fault that it slipped her mind. It wasn’t on purpose, or anything. It just… never really came up.

Still, Casey somehow doubts Elsa’s going to be down with that explanation. Not after she catches the two of them in Casey’s room at 9 pm on a Friday night, when Casey’s pants are kicked off by the door and her hand is _fully_ up Izzie’s shirt.

“Mom!” Casey yells. She scrambles for a pillow half-blind. Panicked, she pulls it over her lap, hoping to cover as much of herself as possible. Izzie, bright pink and mortified, tugs her shirt down with one hand and furiously combs her hair with the other. “Can’t you knock?” Casey shoots, scowling.

Elsa just blinks at them, her hand frozen on the doorknob. She’s halfway inside the room and halfway out, and it’s another few horrible seconds before she seems to come back to herself. “Sorry!” She reaches up and covers her eyes, belatedly, as she tries to back out of the room. “I’m sorry! Casey, your uniform is in the drier for tomorrow. And…” she stops, a few steps away, “your father and I would like to speak with you. Both of you. Downstairs.” She peels her hand away from her eyes like she’s afraid of what she might see. She looks at them for another few short seconds before saying, brusquely, “Door open,” and walking away.

Casey groans and falls back onto her duvet. Izzie is blushing hard next to her. It would be cute if it weren’t also mortifying. “Great,” Casey grumbles. “I dated Evan for like eight months and she never walked in on us once. Now twice in half a year.”

Izzie lets out a weak laugh. “Maybe she can smell it on us.” Casey gives her a weird look, and Izzie, if possible, flushes darker. “Not like _that._ ”

“Casey!” Elsa shouts from downstairs, and Casey just groans again. She buries her face in her pillow and screams once. When she straightens and looks towards Izzie, she’s met with a small smile and a shrug.

“God,” Casey huffs. “ _Fine_. Fine.”

Elsa and her dad are waiting for them at the kitchen table. They’re wearing matching expressions, something that Casey would describe as _disappointed-and-embarrassed-parents-who-can’t-mind-their-own-business._ Casey falls into a chair with a frown already on her face. Izzie is much politer, sinking down next to her gently, and without a word. Her fingers twitch against her thighs, and Casey thinks about reaching out and taking her hand, but one look at her mom’s face makes her second-guess herself.

So instead, Casey just glowers, her arms folded tightly over her chest. No one speaks for a few more long, horrible moments. “Did you want something,” Casey finally asks, “or are we just going to stare at each other for the next half hour?”

Her dad sighs. Izzie fidgets next to her, eyes on the table. “Casey,” he says slowly, his voice purposefully quiet, like he’s trying to force them all to be calm through sheer willpower, “your mom and I need to talk to you about your relationship.”

“What about it?”

“Well, you’ve clearly been hiding Izzie from us, which means that the rules we have are going to have to change.”

“It’s not really that big a deal.”

“You’ve been having sleepovers with your girlfriend,” Elsa cuts in. “That isn’t something we allow in this house.”

“Mom, c’mon. We’ve had like a million sleepovers.”

“ _Before_ you were dating. There have to be new rules now.”

“What,” Casey scoffs, “just because sex is on the table now means we’re not allowed to spend any time together?”

Izzie, already a furious shade of red, hisses, “ _Casey,_ ” in warning.

Casey ignores her. “That isn’t _fair._ ”

“It’s _extremely_ fair.” Doug leans forward, his brow furrowed. “I agree with your mother. You’re _seventeen_ , Casey. You can’t have boyfriends or—or _girl_ friends sleepover. It’s not happening.”

Casey feels like stomping her foot. She doesn’t, of course; she isn’t a kid. Still. “It’s not like I can get her pregnant.”

“Casey!”

“Hey now—” Her parents object, one after the other. Casey rolls her eyes. Next to her, Izzie is staring at her hands folded on top of the table. She hasn’t said anything else since they trudged, guiltily, single-file into the kitchen.

“The thing about sex…” Elsa says, and Casey groans. Thinks about plugging her ears; doesn’t. “It isn’t about who can or can’t get pregnant. It’s about the fact that you’re seventeen. You’re a teenager, living in our house, and there have to be rules about what we do and do not allow our seventeen-year-old daughter to do under our roof. When her parents are _right_ downstairs, for that matter.”

“I just don’t think it’s fair that she can’t sleepover! Whatever, we can keep the door open or sleep in different rooms or whatever you want. But you can’t just kick her out if she doesn’t have anywhere else to go!”

Elsa and Doug look at each other. “Izzie can stay tonight,” Elsa finally concedes. “And… we’ll think about what you said. Maybe we can figure something out. But Izzie’s staying on the couch tonight.”

Casey huffs again, opens her mouth to argue before Izzie says, “Thank you, Mrs. Gardner. I just have to grab my things from Casey’s room.”

Upstairs in Casey’s room, Izzie won’t even look at her. She walks towards her bag and starts stuffing her clothes inside and still, she doesn’t even acknowledge Casey is there.

Casey stands by the door, toeing her socked foot against the carpet. When Izzie has all of her things collected she turns, and catches Casey’s eye. Her lips are pressed in a thin line. She just shakes her head.

Casey bristles. “What?”

“You’re unbelievable sometimes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why would you say that stuff to your parents?”

“What are you talking about?” Casey blinks at her. “ _What_ stuff?”

“That was _humiliating_ , Casey,” Izzie hisses. “Why do you always have to pick a _fight_ about everything?”

“What are you _talking_ about?”

“You could have just apologized! We won’t keep the door closed, or whatever, why did you have to make it a _thing_?”

“I didn’t make it a _thing._ I just don’t think it’s fair.”

“You told your parents we were having sex!”

“I didn’t! And we aren’t! So it shouldn’t be a thing!

“It _is_ a thing!”

“ _Why_ are you so mad at me?”

Izzie just huffs at her. “If you don’t understand that then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“Izzie, wait!” Casey calls after her as she storms out of the room, but Izzie ignores her. “Gah!” Casey yells out, frustrated. She slams her fist into her pillow once, twice, before she shouts again.

“Why are you yelling?”

Casey whips around to see Sam standing in her bedroom door, his headphones hanging around his neck. “Leave me alone, Sam.”

“Why are you yelling at me now?”

Casey stomps over to him. “Leave me _alone,_ ” she hisses before slamming her bedroom door shut so hard that it rattles on its hinges.

.

.

.

Casey walks into the kitchen in the morning already in a foul mood. She walked past the family room on her way down, and all that was there to greet her was a pillow and a folded blanket. No note, not even a text saying goodbye. Casey falls into her chair already glowering. Elsa, cooking some eggs on the stove, doesn’t recognize the clear and present danger for what it is.

“Izzie left pretty early this morning,” she says, casually, and Casey’s hands clench into fists against her thighs.

“Gee,” she mocks, “I wonder why. Maybe it had something to do with you attacking us last night so now she doesn’t feel welcome here.”

“We want her to feel welcome here. Of course we do.” Elsa sighs. She turns down the stove, puts down her spatula. “Look, Casey—”

“I’m don’t want to talk to you.”

Elsa ignores her. “Your father and I talked it through last night, and you’re right.” Casey sits up straighter, but Elsa holds up a hand to stop her before she can interject. “Not about everything. We still need to have an open door policy when Izzie’s here. And if she’s spending the night here I don’t want you two sleeping in the same bed.”

“ _Mom_ —”

“ _But,_ you’re right that we might have overreacted. We want Izzie to feel comfortable here. She’s always welcome in our house; that hasn’t changed just because you two are dating.” Casey never actually _said_ that they were dating, and she thinks for a moment about making some comment about presumptions and heteronormative biases, but that’s really more Izzie’s deal than hers, so she stays quiet. “So,” Elsa continues, “she can keep spending the night. We won’t ever tell her that she can’t. Especially if she doesn’t have a safe place to stay. But you need to be more respectful of our rules.”

After a beat, when Casey doesn’t immediately say anything, Elsa prods, “Does that seem fair to you?”

Casey shrugs. “I guess.”

“Good. Now that that’s out of the way, I think we need to talk about sex.”

“Oh my God,” Casey groans, planting her face into her hands, desperately wishing for a swift and painless death.

“I did some research last night,” Elsa continues like Casey isn’t actively dying in front of her. “We gave you one safe sex talk already but things are different when there are two girls involved, different precautions to take, and you should—”

“Jesus, Mom!” Casey’s voice is muffled through her palms. “ _Please_ shut up.”

“This is important, Casey. If you and Izzie are having sex—”

“We— aren’t.” Casey shakes her head vigorously, peeking out from her fingers. “I mean… we haven’t. Yet.” Her hands fall to the table. “We aren’t… we haven’t even talked about it.”

“Oh. Well… that’s alright. There’s no need to feel rushed or pressured if you aren’t ready.”

“I _really_ don’t want to talk to you about this.”

“I just want you to know that you _can,_ if you need to. You know I’ve been around the block a few times. I kissed a girl in college.”

“Jesus, Mom.”

“I did!” Elsa looks off into the distance, almost wistful. “It was nice. Now I know I don’t know _exactly_ what two girls do when they’re together, but I’m sure you can—”

“I’m— fine. I promise I’m fine. You don’t… you do _not_ need to… just stop, please. I’ll… I can figure it out. Okay? I promise I can— just….”

“You seem nervous.”

“I’m extremely uncomfortable, does that count?”

“No,” she laughs, and Casey does _not_ know what about this conversation, exactly, is funny. “Nervous about having sex with Izzie, I mean.”

“Why are we still talking about this? Isn’t this some form of harassment? I could sue, you know.”

“Sure,” Elsa rolls her eyes, “sue your mom because she cares about you. I just want you to be able to talk to me about things like this, Casey. It can be scary, being intimate with someone for the first time, which is why it’s so important that you wait for the right person, and the right moment.”

“I’m…” Casey’s ears and neck and cheeks are burning hot. “it’s not that I don’t _want_ to. I just… don’t know what i’m doing. I don’t…” she shakes herself and says, softer than before, “I don’t want to be bad.”

“Has Izzie ever had a girlfriend before?”

“No.” Casey shakes her head. “It’s new for both of us.”

“Okay, so she’s probably just as nervous as you are. Have you talked about it at all?”

Casey flushes. “ _No_. That’s embarrassing.”

“Communication is really important in a relationship. You need to be able to talk to your partner about things like sex, and intimacy, and—”

“Oh, like you and Dad? Really great communication skills you showed. Was that before or after you cheated on him?”

Elsa looks very unimpressed. Casey stares back at her, defiant. Finally, she acquiesces. “Okay. I can take a hint. You don’t want to talk to me about this.”

“I said that already.”

“Well. _If_ you change your mind, I’m here. And tell Izzie I’m here for her, too.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“I know she doesn’t want to talk to her girlfriend’s mom about sex. But she should be able to talk to _someone_.” That stills Casey. “So I’m here for you, for the _both_ of you. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Casey says softly, “okay.”

.

.

.

She doesn’t talk to Izzie until Monday. Casey comes up behind her at their lockers and nudges her with her foot. Izzie glances over her shoulder and her mouth twitches up before she seems to remember that they’re technically in a fight. She turns back to her locker, expressionless. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Casey says back. “Missed you this weekend. Sam took Edison out of his tank and basically our whole Sunday afternoon turned into a turtle hunt.”

“Tortoise,” Izzie corrects without thinking.

Casey grins. “We coulda used your help. Needed all hands on deck with lettuce.”

Izzie’s shoulders relax more and more with every passing beat. She closes her locker and leans against it, her books held loosely to her chest. “How hard is it to find a tortoise in one house?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Yeah, it was great. Well, not great, it was horrible, Sam was freaking out, but Elsa got stuck under his bed for a little bit. That was fun.”

Izzie laughs. “Your family is funny.”

Casey kicks off the wall as they make their way to class. “How about you? How was your weekend.”

Izzie shrugs. “Pretty normal. Had to watch the kids Saturday and Sunday. Noah won his soccer game, so we all went out for pizza and ice cream after.”

Casey pouts, and it’s only half-joking. “I like pizza.”

Izzie’s smile is bashful. “I didn’t think you’d want to come to all that. It’s boring kid stuff.”

“Yeah, but you were there. And you’re not boring.” Casey’s fingers nudge at Izzie’s, and after a moment they tangle together. “You’re my very hot girlfriend. And I like spending time with you.”

Izzie looks at her out of the corner of her eye. “You’d really want to come to something like that?”

Casey shrugs. “Sure. If you’re there. Beats letting Elsa bug me all weekend about our sex life.”

Izzie’s ears are pink and she takes her lip between her teeth. “She did?”

“She told me to tell you that if you ever want to talk about sex with her—” Casey makes a gagging noise that makes Izzie giggle— “that you can talk to her. If you want.”

“I’m not going to talk to your mom about sex.”

“That’s what I said! But she made me promise to tell you.” Which isn’t exactly true, but it’s close enough. Besides, her mom might be a total nightmare sometimes, but she’s right about this, at least: Izzie doesn’t have anyone else to talk to. It’s not like they know any lesbians they can ask for advice. As far as Casey can tell, they’re the only girls at Clayton Prep in their year who are dating. Which are not great statistics? But it’s a private school, so maybe that’s to be expected.

“I guess that’s sweet of her. Weird, but also sweet.”

“Weird but sweet. Very Elsa’s brand.”

Izzie smiles as they slow to a stop in front of room 214. “This is me,” she says, like Casey doesn’t already know. They linger outside the classroom for a few more moments, just sort of looking at each other.

Casey clears her throat. “Um… doing anything this afternoon?”

“Besides practice?”

“After practice.”

Izzie smiles and shakes her head. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

Casey tries not to think about the way that leaves her almost breathless.

.

.

.

Casey watches Izzie take a long pull of her slurpee. Her hair is tied back off her face, she’s dressed in a loose hoodie and her track pants (it’s only February, after all, and the chill outside is sharp enough to cut straight through to Casey’s bones) and she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup but Casey’s heart still knocks against her chest earnestly, dangerously, like it’s trying to break through her ribs.

“You freaked out on me this weekend,” Casey says into the quiet car.

Izzie pauses for a second, swallows the combination of ice and sugar syrup in her mouth. “I know,” she says back. She turns in her seat, so her body is square on to Casey’s. “I’m sorry about that.”

But Casey hadn’t been looking for an apology, only an explanation. “I can handle the freak outs, I’d just like to know why, y’know? I told you I’m not looking for easy. It’s fine if we fight. But I don’t wanna feel like I’m going crazy all the time.”

“We make each other a little crazy, don’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Casey shrugs. “Sometimes. Yeah.”

Izzie deflates. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not usually this… complicated. I guess it’s just… I don’t know. It’s fine having people at school know about us, I guess. Like that doesn’t matter, you know, they don’t matter. But when it’s your parents… it felt different. And I was embarrassed.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Izzie smiles at her. She leans over the center console, presses a quick kiss to Casey’s unsuspecting lips. She drops back down a second later and laughs a little at the dazed expression that meets her. “I know you didn’t. That’s why you’re so great.”

The moment stretches, still and endless. Izzie’s eyes flick down to Casey’s lips and back up so quickly that it’s almost undetectable. Almost.

It’s dark outside the car, dark and cold. The only light coming in through the windshield is tinted orange and green from the 7-11 sign a stone’s throw from where they’re parked. The closest car has to be forty or more feet away from them (Casey checked when they parked, not because she was _hoping_ something like this would happen… not that she _thinks_ anything is about to happen, but she can’t pretend that it didn’t cross her mind). It’s dark, and quiet, and they’re alone, and _not_ fighting any more, which is huge, and Izzie’s lips are pink and a little wet and Casey wonders if she’s wearing gloss, and if she is, she wonders what kind she’s wearing, and how she might taste.

“Izzie,” Casey says, soft enough to be a whisper, or maybe a warning, but Izzie doesn’t seem to hear her. Or maybe she does, and what she does next is a reaction to the sound of Casey’s voice, the throaty, scratchy way her tongue forms around Izzie’s name.

Their kiss is inevitable. Izzie’s mouth is on hers before Casey can blink, and then her eyes are closed, and she can’t think about much else. They’ve kissed a million times but this one feels _different._ Izzie’s tongue is in her mouth and her hand is in Casey’s hair, fisting the short length tight enough that Casey’s eyes would water, in any other circumstance. She gasps when Casey bites her lip, and it’s a mad scramble to unclip her seatbelt and clamber over the center console. Casey hears her knee knock something, hears the sound of something fall heavily to the floor, but Izzie’s eyes are burning into hers and Casey doesn’t care about anything but kissing her again.

Izzie throws one leg over Casey’s lap and it’s a tight fit, not exactly comfortable. She’s sandwiched between Casey’s body and the steering wheel but that just means they’re pressed all the closer. Casey bites her lip again and Izzie moans and grinds down, her crotch against Casey’s stomach and it’s— it’s a _lot_ all at once. They’ve seen each other topless but this feels _more,_ this feels… it feels _different._ There’s an urgency to the way Izzie is moving against her, the steady press of her hips against Casey’s abdomen as she seeks out a friction that Casey is also desperate for. Casey’s hands are on Izzie’s hips — not moving her, exactly; not _guiding_ her, but with her eyes closed it definitely _feels_ like that.

There’s a fumbling between their bodies. It takes Casey’s addled brain a few seconds to realize that Izzie’s fingers are tugging at the button of her jeans.

“Iz—” The button pops open and Izzie makes a noise in the back of her throat that Casey feels all the way down her spine to her toes (but especially between her legs).

Izzie’s lips are back on hers and Casey can’t catch her breath, God she can’t even _breathe._

Izzie’s hands have found her shoulders and now she’s pressing down with more urgency and Casey’s mouth is dry and she has to pull away because Izzie’s movements are getting less regular with each pass and she’s _riding_ Casey’s stomach and God, Casey’s never been this turned on in her _life._ No amount of sex with Evan ever made her feel like this — she’s unspooling in the front seat of her mom’s minivan while her girlfriend gets herself off against her.

Izzie moans a quiet, “Fuck, Newton,” and Casey’s brain suddenly kicks back into action.

“Just—” Casey squeezes her hips, bringing her to a stuttering stop. “Hold on. Just hold on. One sec.” Casey’s breathing like she just finished a round of sprints. Her chest is heaving and she swallows, her mouth unexpectedly dry. She leans her forehead against Izzie’s as they exchange quick breaths like that, pressed together and trembling.

Izzie seems just as dazed as Casey feels. “Sorry,” she all but whispers. Her eyes flutter closed and her hands flex on Casey’s shoulders. “Got a little carried away.”

“It’s okay. It’s _more_ than okay. But, um…” Casey glances down at her unbuttoned pants and feels heat rise to her cheeks. “I don’t think we should… here. Y’know? Elsa’s van doesn’t exactly… set the mood.”

Izzie laughs, which Casey thinks is a relief. She half-expected her to be angry, or frustrated at Casey for stopping them right before they got to the good part. _Casey_ is a little frustrated with herself, honestly. She’s still trembling, has this energy running underneath her skin, her blood sounds like a river in her ears and when Izzie’s eyes open and meet hers, smoldering and hot, she thinks she might just shake apart.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she pleads.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to fuck you right here.”

Izzie shivers. Her hips grind down, maybe involuntarily, maybe on purpose; Casey’s brain isn’t operational enough to tell the difference. “I’m not against it.”

“Iz, we can’t.”

Izzie bites her lip and _God,_ that’s just unfair of her. She knows what that does to Casey. It’s not fair at _all._ “Why not?” She takes Casey’s hand from where it’s resting, innocently, on her hip and presses her palm into her stomach. Their hands slide, together, towards the hem of her shirt. Casey’s fingers brush skin and her whole body seems to _burn_ with it. Izzie’s teeth are digging so hard into her lip that in the back of her mind Casey’s worried she might break skin, but the rest of her mind (the front and both sides) can’t seem to think about anything but the way Izzie’s skin looks under her pale fingers, the way the muscles of her abs clench and unclench, the way her hips twitch forward, closer to Casey’s hand.

Casey puts her hand flat against Izzie’s stomach, over her shirt, firm and unyielding. “We _can’t_ ,” she says again. “I don’t want our first time to be in a 7-11 parking lot in Elsa’s van.”

That seems to settle Izzie. She relaxes on Casey’s lap, putting some distance between them, but she doesn’t pull back completely. “You’ve thought about our first time?”

“You haven’t?” There’s an expression on Izzie’s face that Casey can’t read. Something soft and fragile. It makes Casey nervous, and excited, and a little sad too, maybe, though it’s hard to tell.

The next time Izzie kisses her it’s much slower, but no less destabilizing. She zips Casey’s pants back up while she’s still dazed.

Izzie’s a lot less smooth getting off of Casey’s lap than she was getting onto it, which if Casey’s being honest kind of helps with the whole _desperately turned on_ thing they’ve both got going. Izzie flops back into her seat with an undignified grunt that makes Casey smile, almost in spite of herself.

“Good thing we can’t get boners,” she says. “That’d be hard to explain to Elsa.”

Izzie laughs and hits at Casey’s shoulder. “Gross. Don’t talk about your mom after we’ve been making out.”

“I’m just saying it’s a good thing.”

Izzie rolls her eyes. “Just take me home, nerd.”

“So you can dream about me all night?” Casey teases.

Izzie’s eyes are dark and burning. Her voice, when she speaks, sounds like honeyed molasses. “Oh, baby, you don’t wanna know what I’m going to be doing all night.”

Casey’s mouth opens and closes a few times. She feels like a fish that’s been pulled out of water; gaping and unable to breathe. “Th—” she clears her throat and tries again. “That is _not_ fair.”

“Play your cards right, Newton, and I might send you some pictures.”

Casey’s foot slips off the break. Were it not for the parking break, they might have been in serious trouble. Casey whips around to stare at her girlfriend, but Izzie just laughs at the expression on her face.

They’re halfway to Izzie’s house before they realize Izzie’s slurpee has spilled all over the backseat of the van. Elsa’s going to murder her.

.

.

.

“My parents are out of town this weekend.”

Izzie blinks, knocking her locker closed with her shoulder. “Hello to you, too.”

“Hi,” Casey breathes, dipping her head. She kisses Izzie for several seconds longer than is strictly appropriate at school, but when she pulls away Izzie’s cheeks are flushed pink, and she doesn’t look like she minds at all. “My parents are out of town this weekend,” she repeats.

“I heard you the first time.” Izzie tucks her hair behind her ear, smiling. “Good for them. Going on a trip?”

“Something with Sam. I wasn’t paying attention. The _point_ is I’ll be home by myself. And Elsa’s already given me a _very_ strict talk about how I am _not_ allowed to have my girlfriend come over when they’re away, so I was wondering what time you wanted to come over Saturday.”

Izzie shakes her head, but she’s still grinning. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I am, yes. So, Saturday night?”

Izzie bites her lip. It’s incredibly unfair. “Eager.”

If Izzie’s going to play dirty, Casey can play dirty, too. “Well,” she says quietly, taking a step forwards. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the other night.” Her hand lands on Izzie’s hip and her mouth brushes against Izzie’s ear. Izzie shivers and leans back against her locker like her she doesn’t trust her legs to keep her upright. They don’t make it a _habit_ to do PDA at school, but it’s not a secret they’re dating. No one will give them a second thought, which is kind of the point.

“Oh?” Izzie’s voice wavers, though she’s doing a good job hiding it.

Casey hums. “Been dreaming about the way you sounded on top of me. Can’t stop thinking about the way you’ll taste.”

Izzie’s fingers flex on her backpack. “ _Casey,_ ” she whispers, and sounds both like an invitation and a warning.

Casey kisses her quickly once, right behind her ear, before she draws back, completely relaxed. Izzie stares at her like she has half a mind to drag them both out of school right now, attendance records and track practice be damned.

Casey is the picture of perfect innocence. “Walk you to class?” she offers.

It takes Izzie a second to find her footing, and when she does she shoves lightly at Casey’s shoulder. “I hate you,” she mutters, stalking off down the hall without waiting.

Casey jogs to catch up to her, slips her hand down Izzie’s arm until their fingers lace together. “You don’t hate me.”

“Right now I do.”

“And later?”

“Ask me after Saturday night.”

Casey’s stomach does a little _swoop kick drop_ thing that feels like butterflies, or actually more like snakes, but it’s not uncomfortable. Actually, it leaves her giddy all the rest of the day.

.

.

.

Casey’s not entirely sure she thought this through.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, they’ve been toeing the line between _very_ intense make out sessions and full-blown sex for, like, two months now. It’s not that big of a leap from one to the other. They’ve done pretty much everything else. Well… everything above-the-belt, at least, but as far as Casey can tell that’s _pretty_ much ‘everything else’ when you’re talking about a lesbian relationship. As far as she knows. Jesus, are there _more_ things?? She should have done more research, watched more porn, or something (not that porn is, like… a _good_ representation of sex, or anything, but at least it would help her get the basic mechanics of it down). She’s never had sex with a girl. Guys are so _easy,_ it’s so _easy_ to know what to do with them. It’s practically second-nature. There isn’t really anything to fuck up. But girls are so much more complicated, there’s so much _more_ to them. And to top it all off, this is _Izzie._ She’s not just some _rando._

God, this really seemed like a good idea when she was pitching her at school. But now Izzie’s in her bed. Izzie is _in_ her bed and she’s going to _spend the night_ in her bed and Casey lost her pants somewhere between the front door and now, and Izzie lost a fair bit more than that because all that’s keeping her from being naked right now is a thin bed sheets and a pair of underwear, and wow, okay, Casey _really_ didn’t think this through.

“Casey?” Izzie asks quietly, and Casey can hear the nerves behind the question. It bolsters her, somehow; the knowledge that Izzie is just as nervous as she is makes her, suddenly, much less nervous.

She smiles, hopes she looks more confident than she feels. “Yeah?”

“Are you, um… waiting for something? Or…?” Izzie looks down at the sheet bunched around her waist and twists it between her fingers. She raises it a bit, like she’s thinking about covering herself.

Casey climbs on the bed and kisses her. Izzie makes a grateful noise in the back of her throat and sinks into the familiarity of it.

 _This is good,_ Casey thinks to herself. She lowers herself slowly, so that she’s pressed flush against Izzie, sandwiching her against the mattress. _Kissing is easy. I know how to kiss her._

And she does, she really does. She knows what Izzie likes, knows how to draw little noises from her chest when she bites on her lip, knows how to get her to arch against her when her thumb flicks over her nipple.

She’s confident on the kissing. Could do it in her sleep, if she had to. It’s when Izzie’s fingers start toying with the waistband of her underwear that Casey starts and pulls away.

“You okay?” Izzie asks with kiss-swollen lips. Her nipples are hard points. Casey can feel them through the soft cotton of her t-shirt, and it makes her ache.

Casey swallows and nods. “Yeah. I just, umm… let me do you.”

One brow notches up. “You sure?”

Casey licks her lips. It’s involuntary, really; her mouth is too dry to do her any good. She nods again. “Yeah. I want to.”

When Izzie’s pants are off and she’s spread out beneath her, her thighs held apart by Casey’s hands, glistening pink and wet, Casey, for a moment, thinks she might lose her mind.

Izzie sits up straight. She’s worrying her lip between her teeth, her forehead pulled into a nervous frown. “You don’t have to,” she says quickly. “I know this is a little… a lot. Nate never liked doing it I know… I know it’s kind of gross. You can just use your fingers, it’s fine. I promise.” Casey blinks up at her. “Or you don’t have to do anything! We can watch a movie or something tonight that’s totally fine, too.”

Casey’s heart is racing. It sort of feels the way a panic attack feels, but softer, with more butterflies in her stomach than the crippling dread she’s used to in panic attacks. She thinks, for a few seconds, about taking the out. There’s no reason they _have_ to have sex today. It just seemed like an opportune time. Parents and Sam gone, no homework to deal with, no kids to babysit, nothing to focus on but each other. But there will be plenty of other opportunities for them to have sex. There’s no reason it _has_ to be tonight. Maybe if they put it off for a few weeks Casey will even have the chance to get her head out of her ass.

But then she thinks about _Nate never liked doing it_ and _I know it’s kind of gross_ and she’ll be _damned_ if she lets Izzie have _any_ fucking reason to compare her to _Nate Phillips. Especially_ in bed.

Izzie is still looking down at her, still worried. Her thighs twitch, like she wants to shut her legs, but Casey’s firm hands on her knees keep her spread. “Iz?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking?”

“Okay, I can— _oh._ ” Casey keeps her tongue flat and drags it slowly up. Izzie is frozen under her. Until Casey’s tongue brushes against her clit, and then it’s like an electric shock shoots through her. She gasps and jolts, and it’s Casey’s turn to pause.

She looks up. Izzie has her eyes scrunched closed. Her jaw is tight and her hands are fisted in the sheet. “Hey,” Casey says, putting a gentle hand on her hip. That, too, makes Izzie almost jump. “Look at me,” she asks, and it takes a couple seconds for Izzie to manage to do that. “Is this too much? Do you want to stop?”

“No that was… um…” She nods, eyes wide and unblinking. “Good. Yeah. You can… yeah. Keep going.”

“You sure?”

“ _Please._ ”

And, well, Casey’s never been one for cruelty.

It’s pretty safe to say that she’s not an expert at eating someone out. It takes a few minutes of experimentation before she starts to pick up on what works best (flat tongue is good, but circles are better, and alternating quick and slow does something _incredible_ to Izzie’s nerves, Casey can tell by the way she twitches and curses, and when she closes her lips and sucks Izzie just about bows off the bed, so she files _that_ knowledge away for later). Izzie is _way_ more sensitive than Casey, because she hisses a few times when Casey gets a little too _enthusiastic_ and has to mumble, “Careful, careful,” until Casey slows down and gets gentler again.

Most surprising of all, Casey finds that she’s _into this._ She never really cared about oral sex when she was with Evan, either giving or receiving, she could take it or leave it really, but _this… God_ she could get used to this. Izzie is so responsive. She’s trying desperately to stay quiet (not that she needs to, Casey figures she’s probably just embarrassed), but every once in a while Casey will do something different with her mouth and Izzie will moan, or let out a quiet curse, and Casey _feels that_ all the way down to her _bones._ She wants _more._ She wants everything, all of it, every sound she can coax from her. She wants to hear all of it. She _wants_ like she’s never wanted before.

She doesn’t know how long she’s had her head between Izzie’s legs but it must be a while because her jaw is starting to ache and Izzie’s cries are getting louder, closer together, more desperate and needy. Her fingers scramble against the bed and her toes curl, but she still doesn’t come. She’s trembling like a leaf, a breath away from falling apart, but she never falls.

After a few more minutes of this, where Casey can practically _feel_ Izzie’s orgasm building and then tumbling away, she pulls back.

“No, don’t stop please,” Izzie breathes, and her eyes are wild when they catch Casey’s.

Casey flushes, pleased beyond measure. _She_ did that. _She_ did that to her. “What do you need?” she asks, and her voice is rough with lack of use.

“Just come back, I’m almost there, almost—”

“Iz, just tell me what you need me to do to get you off.”

Izzie swallows. For a moment she looks like a deer in headlights, and Casey wonders briefly if anyone’s ever _asked_ her that, before. “Your fingers. Inside. Please, I—” she cuts herself off with a gasp as Casey sinks inside of her. It only takes a few awkward seconds of fumbling before she figures out the motion she’s supposed to use. Izzie’s hips jump closer to her the first time Casey’s fingers brush against her inner walls and Casey preens at the gasp that forces itself from her throat.

“Jesus, Newton.” Izzie’s hips jump closer to her again and Casey thrusts, meeting her halfway. “ _Fuck,_ ” Izzie groans. “Keep doing that. Shit.”

The rhythm they settle into is an easy one. Casey’s hands aren’t sure in their movements but between her forward press and Izzie’s rocking hips, they set a steady tempo that quickens the longer they keep at it.

Casey’s wrist is starting to burn, but Izzie is clenching down on her fingers and she’s gasping, her fingers twitching against the mattress, and Casey knows she’s close. It’s a little awkward trying to maneuver her head while keeping up the tempo with her fingers, and she slips and stutter-stops twice and Izzie groans in response. But when Casey’s lips wrap around her clit and her tongue starts circling, flicking, Izzie’s back arches fully off the bed.

Casey presses harder, with her mouth and with her hand, and her wrist is aching and her forearm is burning now, too, but she doesn’t stop. There’s a desperate whine to Izzie’s vocalizations that’s nearly intoxicating, and Casey is drunk on her, on _this,_ on the _feel_ of her and the way she’s gripping onto her fingers so _tight_ on the feel of Izzie’s fingers in her hair, yanking her impossibly closer, on the way she yelps and tenses and then spasms, out of control.

Casey pulls away with wet lips and chin, easing her gently out of her orgasm. Izzie twitches, clearly still sensitive. When Casey pulls out she shivers, another mini-orgasm pulling through her before she collapses, limp.

Casey wipes at her chin, trying (and failing) not to feel too smug.

“Jesus, Newton,” Izzie says again. Her head is floppy on her neck, and she looks at Casey through lidded eyes that are dark and unfocused. “You sure you’ve never done that before?”

Casey shakes her head. “Only ever been on the receiving end. Guess I picked up a few tips.”

“You could say that.” Izzie seems to sink deeper into the covers. She looks up at Casey, flushed and happy and cozy. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath, then I can—”

“No, hey.” Casey slips up her body, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the bare skin of Izzie’s chest, her shoulders. They kiss deeply, and Izzie makes a pleased sound in the back of her throat at the taste of herself on Casey’s tongue. Their tongues brush, languid and careful.

“Don’t worry about me,” Casey whispers when they pull apart. She rests her forehead against Izzie’s and Izzie turns towards her, wrapping herself around Casey’s body like it’s the trunk of some large tree. “‘M fine. I feel good. Happy.” She brushes their noses together and Izzie hums deep in her chest, almost a purr.

“Okay,” Izzie mumbles, burying her face in the space between Casey’s shoulder and neck. “I’m happy, too.”

________________

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come talk to me on [ tumblr](https://morningsound15.tumblr.com/).


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